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Everything posted by HerculeHastings

“We have intruders, Mr Jack,” Nixi hissed.
A man was standing at a narrow aisle between two rows of filing cabinets, his back completely straight as if he were standing to attention. He had remained in this frozen posture for the past ten minutes now, only his neck rotating as far as his human muscles would allow, mechanically scanning the titles on the shelves. He looked to be in his late thirties, an age where wrinkles had not begun to appear yet, but he had already taken on an aura of power. He turned to face his beloved now, his eyes softening as she squeezed herself nimbly through the window, which was open just a crack.
Contrary to what most humans seemed to think, snakes were not the only animals that hissed. Nixi padded up to him and rubbed her face lovingly against the leg of his trousers. His beloved cat, a priceless beauty. She might look like a common stray to the uninitiated, but this ginger cat had accompanied him through much of life’s journeys, and had eventually ended her life together with him as well…
But no matter. They were now reunited again, this time with a new objective. He knew, of course, that he would not be alone in this quest. The Grim Reaper had warned, no, promised of other participants, opponents to this game. Except to Mr Jack, it was not a game. The Grim Reaper had raised the stakes too high for that.
There was a blue orb of light that had been hovering near his head, helping to illuminate some of the darker corners. He extinguished it just as an irritating girlish voice echoed through the records room.
"Come out then. You won't get what you want from my mind while I'm still breathing. Or pretending to breathe, rather."
His eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Nixi’s voice rang out telepathically in his mind, “Yes, I had a brief spat with her outside. She is quite a bitch.”
“No worries,” he answered back telepathically. “We shall deal with her and put her in her place.”
~~~
“Oh, oof!” I grunted lamely, holding out my hands to steady myself and the chair, whose “ergonomically designed” features only succeeded in hurting my back. Rosalyn herself was on the alert, her features gradually changing, mutating, to the horror I had witnessed that night. Her eyes turned more cat-like and I could feel an aura of power and contempt radiating from her. I turned instinctively to avoid this unnatural sight, and caught sight of another figure among the shelves.
“Sir, you probably, er, shouldn’t be here,” I exclaimed. A security guard was patrolling the shelves, seemingly clueless to the mayhem that was unfolding around him. He calmly and slowly looked through every cabinet, opening, examining and closing each one methodically. A very meticulous employee, but I had the duty to keep him safe, because Rosalyn hardly struck me as a person to care about collateral damage.
“Sir, you should leave!” He did not seem to have heard me, so I left my chair and hurried fearfully to him. “Sir!” When I reached him I quickly grabbed hold of his hand, intending to get his attention, but froze in shock.
His hand was icy cold. It was as if I was gripping a non-living object.
The figure brushed my hands away with astounding strength, continuing on his quest, not even turning to look at me. That was when I noticed his skin seemed a lot paler than it should be. I stood there in shock, watching him shuffle from one filing cabinet to another.
He was already dead.
This was a trap, and I had fallen gullibly into it.
There was a much louder shuffling sound now, coming from behind me. I turned hurriedly and stumbled backward, a cry escaping from my lips. What came up to me was making no pretence of being human anymore. It was nothing but a shambling lifeless horror, a black shadow of a humanoid that could only make groaning sounds. I was sandwiched between the walking corpse – which was just as uninterested towards the new arrival – and an outright zombie. I made a run for it, with the monster following suit as expected. Also just as expected, I turned the corner and found more of these shambling horrors emerging from the aisles.
I let out a suffocated yell as the horrors – some of them not even humanoid anymore – closed in on me and grabbed me with their cold, smelly appendages

Adventure has always lived in my head, but never in my life. I grew up with fantasies of pirates, of jungle explorations, watching enviously as children around me actually lived them out. Bursting with stories that were not mine, I lay my thoughts to paper and wrote, but never found my tales compelling enough to publish.
I am now 23 years old, having graduated from university, and preparing to enter the dreary working world. My parents, out of mercy, perhaps, allowed me a gap year to wander the world, before I would settle into the family business of manufacturing calculators. I seized upon the opportunity like a hungry vulture. An adventure, for a year! Refusing to take even a cent of their money, but using only the meagre savings I had from part-time work, I set off with sparkling eyes and empty pockets, vowing to travel the distance that my wildest imagination would take me.
I should backtrack and say my pockets were not completely empty. I had in my possession a fairly thick notebook, sufficient to chronicle my year-long adventuresâ€¦
~~~
Help.
This is the only word going through my mind right now. Help. Help. Help. My hands tremble as I struggle to pen coherent sentences. Everything around me is strange and eerie, but I fail to pinpoint just what is the cause. All I know, from my authorâ€™s instinct, is that something is most definitely up with this place, and I do not wish to stay even a moment longer to find out. I am currently in complete darkness with only a torch to see what I am doing, not even daring to feel for the light lest I touch something else far more sinister. I fear that this may be the last chapter I ever writeâ€¦
But I must start from the start, so that anyone who picks up this book after me â€“ God bless them if they too are trapped here â€“ will understand the events that culminated up to this pointâ€¦
I had barely embarked on my ambitious journey for a month. Travelling alone has brought me to great sights, as my previous entries have indicated. One sees the good and the ugly side of human nature around the world. But as expected, money was beginning to dwindle, especially after falling prey to pickpockets on my first week. I had decided early on to look for a job, temporary ones in each new locale I went to. I worked stints as a baker, a salesman, an usher and, most recently, a lifeguard by the sea. Although not always lucrative, they provided a new source of experience, and I came away from them wealthier and satisfied.
The nightmare began today with a completely innocuous mistake. Being a sufferer of colour-blindness, I had boarded the wrong bus that was supposed to take me out of town. There were a handful of passengers, the number I would expect on a bus on a rainy Tuesday. Rain turned into storm as the bus trudged along. I nodded comprehendingly. The rains in this part of the country were known to be violent. Soon enough the rain was so strong that it was pounding against the metal body of the bus, and had turned the view outside the window to a mere fog of grey. I jumped as a thunderclap rang out, my hands clutching the bus route guide tightly, for it was the only indicator for me now. I had no hope of identifying where I was based on the view outside; I could only mentally count, over and over, the number of stops I must take to reach my destination.
I soon reached the stop number on my bus guide, and rang the bell. I remember the faces of some of the other passengers as they turned toward me â€“ incredulous expressions. The bus seemed to slow almost reluctantly, but it was only till I had stepped out of the bus and it had taken flight (indeed I did not remember it moving so quickly when I had been a passenger) that I realized I must have made a mistake somewhere and was utterly, completely lost.
I had only a poncho and an umbrella to combat the rain, and the bus-stop itself was so run-down that it barely provided shelter, and so I had no choice but to seek an alternative retreat.
The rain made it impossible for me to tell left from right, and so I stumbled like a drunkard, swept from one direction to another by the unrelenting wind. The wind took me to a house, which, judging by the sound around me, was very close to the ocean. I shielded my eyes and tried to glean its structure, but all I could see was only one fraction of what extended for possibly kilometres or even miles around. I walked up to the gate, sadly conscious of my bedraggled appearance, drenched from head to toe. Who would admit someone like me into their abode? I must have seemed either very suspicious or very pathetic.
Nonetheless, desperation drove dignity out of me. I raised my voice and shook the gate, my yells competing with the howl of the wind.
â€œIs anyone home?â€
Out of the corner of the eye, I thought I detected the flicker of a shadow.

Also not all Japanese are very proud of their anime. I've met a few Japanese people who went to my university as a sort of cultural immersion trip, and honestly most of them know next to nothing about anime.
That, and anime are usually aired in midnight timeslots. So i'd say anime isn't entirely representative of the country's entertainment consumption preferences.

The main thing for millennials now, i think, is to be constantly entertained almost every minute, which is hard unless forums have tons of members. They want to have news, new information, every single time they refresh, like Facebook or Reddit. And forums simply cannot keep up with their demand for instant-speed content.

Because both happen concurrently.
So happy New Year to the Chinese folk who celebrate it! Lunar New Year started on Monday and will go on for 15 days, but we went back to school and work on Wednesday haha. For those who did celebrate it, did you do anything special? Except Timey being bitten by a chihuahua when he went house visiting. XD
But alas, for the New Year, my body decided to develop a stye in my eye. IT IS SO IRRITATING I WANT TO PULL MY EYEBALL OUT.

Haha it didn't seem to cause any lasting damage. He didn't end up frothing at the mouth or anything. XDD
And hmm well there are! They're usually wordplay though, like the word for oranges sounds kinda like the word for luck. Oh and we aren't supposed to sweep our floor or cut our hair during the New Year cuz we might be sweeping our luck away. Oh and the night before, children are supposed to get a red packet from their parents and put it under their pillows when they sleep, and also stay up to or past midnight. This way their parents will have longevity.

Oh we've LOADS of customs. But the most important one is New Year visiting, where we bring oranges and visit our relatives. The younger generation will hold up 2 oranges to each married relative (yes they have to be married) and wish them good health, prosperity, whatever you want to wish them. And the married person will give them a red packet (which is a Chinese-looking small envelope) with money inside.
And there's also lou hei (which is actually more of a singaporean/Southeast Asian thing) where we take a large platter with many cold ingredients like raw fish (nowadays they're going for abalone slices cuz of some hygiene scare regarding raw fish), crackers, carrot slices etcetera and plum sauce and some other sauces. And everyone gathers around with chopsticks and start grabbing as much as they can and raising those ingredients high up in the air and down again, while yelling out wishes for the new year. So in a way with everyone's effort, the ingredients are mixed together. And then after a few minutes of mixing we grab some and start to eat. It's usually very messy. XD

Oh man i don't get Reddit. It seems so... Messy. But you're right, people don't seem to have the patience for forums anymore! Everything's just social media. Millenials and their short attention span, you know. And wanting everybody in the universe to know about what they think.
Might be something to do with phones too. It's more difficult to type long posts on phones and we tend to only have a few minutes while on public transport or waiting for people so we do things speedily.

Hiii! Most of my activity is centred on spamming INCESSANTLY on Facebook and Twitter. I'm honestly surprised people haven't blocked me already. XDD
Aside from that, I'm somehow still a Scholar, which is embarrassing since I'm hardly around here anymore. Maybe Ack should remove my position. D:
EDIT: Also we need a new forum game on Surreality. That's what keeps people staying on the site. XD

How could I sleep that night? Everytime I closed my eyes, I would imagine her suddenly materialising behind me again, her icy breath sending goose bumps down my shoulder. Every sound I heard on this uncomfortably comfortable bed sent my heart scuttling. I could almost hear her cackling like a witch. The cackles would get deeper and deeper in my mind, till they were wolves howling, or demons laughing.
I touched the scratch she had made on my cheek with a shudder, trying to block out the hallucinations. She had most definitely not been human, with the way she moved like an apparition to my side. She had licked my blood off her finger too...
â€œYou look very tired. Was the bed not to your liking?â€
The night had been long and dreary, my fearing every moment that I might be consumed either by her or by the nightmarish visions that my mind had conjured up for me. I knew not whether to be relieved or petrified further when the door to my room suddenly opened and the man from earlier, Rogi, announced in a rather bored fashion (quite the understatement to what I was feeling right then!) that the Mistress had summoned me to breakfast.
And so I had gotten dressed and traipsed to the dining-room, once again an unnecessarily enormous room that dwarfed the girl sitting before me. From the sunlight streaming in from the full-length windows, she seemed so harmless, as if last nightâ€™s events had been only a dream.
â€œWell? Are you going to answer me?â€ her voice took on the slightest hint of steeliness. I felt myself tense and murmured a forced â€œit was very good, maâ€™amâ€ in a choked voice.
She laughed. It was not as hideous as I had imagined.
â€œWhy would you call me maâ€™am? I do not look old, and we hardly live in the past era, where people have to pretend to have manners. And to my regret, youâ€™re not my servant either, like Rogi,â€ she said.
The odious hunchback, who had been slouching at a corner, snapped to attention at the mention of his name.
â€œWell,â€ I said carefully, â€œyou havenâ€™t offered me an alternative by which to address you.â€
The girl thought for a while, her head cocked to one side.
â€œYou may call me Rosalyn, I guess,â€ she mused. â€œBut come sit down to eat, for Iâ€™m hungry and have no time to exchange silly pleasantries. We have to discuss the game.â€
I gulped at the sight of the forbidding envelope resting on the centre of the table.
â€œI havenâ€™t been out into the city for a very long time, and so I need your help to find this person quickly, before the others get to him. Tell me, what is this place indicated on this map?â€
She slid a map across the table. I took a bite of my croissant, my lips turning dry.
â€œI-if I may say somethingâ€¦â€ I muttered like a little boy fearful of his governess. â€œIâ€™m not of these parts. I came here on a trip from abroad, and so Iâ€™m far less likely than you to identify any place in this area.â€
â€œOh, is that so?â€ said Rosalyn with a frown. â€œYouâ€™re useless then. I really shouldâ€™ve killed you.â€ She did not follow through on her word, though, but shifted her attention to the map instead. â€œWhat do these blue lines on the map mean, I wonderâ€¦â€
I peered as she traced her long fingernail (the very same nail that had evoked this scar on my face!) along the crumpled piece of paper. The map was very much self-explanatory, from what I could see. There was a marketplace, indicated by a picture of a vegetable, and a church. The blue lines (which looked more like yellow to my poor colour-blind eyes) weaved along the roads, passing these landmarks and a few other buildings.
â€œThatâ€™s a bus route,â€ I said. â€œIt passes these bus-stops. Oh!â€
I rummaged in my bag, drawing out the limp bus guide that had misled me the day before. The marketplace, and the church. Why, this was the bus route that I was supposed to take, had my route been correct! I felt a wave of misery course through me, nearly rendering me limp on the table. How my fate had changed its course, all because of a disability of mine and some bad luck!
â€œIf you know these places, then tell me, what is this one?â€ Rosalyn pointed to a place circled in red. I looked at it and compared it to my bus guide, and a copy of my own map that I had used to guide me.
â€œIf this is right, then this building can only beâ€¦â€ I paused.
â€œThe City Hall.â€

I cannot deny I jumped when I felt the light touch of the girlâ€™s hand on my shoulder. Having come from a home where any sort of physical intimacy â€“ even between mother and daughter â€“ is frowned upon, I am sometimes taken aback by the friendliness shown by strangers out in public. The feeling worsened when the girl started moving one hand up my neck and tickling it with the other hand. I could not pay attention to what she was saying, for goose pimples were rising all over my body.
What happened next was a blur. I vaguely recall a man ushering me quite hurriedly, without paying heed to my nervous questions, to a set of clean clothes, and then ushering me away again to a room to change, before scurrying off again, relieved that his job was over.
And this is the room that I found myself in, what looks like a study. I have changed into what was provided, which was a rather old set of gentlemanâ€™s suit and trousers, slightly too loose for me. It would do for the night, but I have fortunately some extra clothes in my bag that just require some drying from the rain.
But that was not what had startled me, or given me this urge to run away at the nearest opportunity. I must backtrack again, to before I had changed. The room had been fairly dim, and so I had placed the clothes on the table before feeling for the lights. As I was changing, an envelope with a letter in it fell onto the floor. I was about to pick it up and return it when I chanced upon the letterâ€™s contents. And why, my hand began shaking on its own accord!
The letter itself is very long, but I feel a duty to report the gist, or at least some parts, of its contents, for this is something that must be reported. I wish I could take this letter and report it to the police straightaway, if I only knew where they are. I shall copy down as much of this letter as I can, so that this book can be used as evidence if necessary, before anyone comes in here and catches me.
â€œDear Rosalyn Mallory
You have been cordially invited to take part in the Assassination Game.
The objective of the game is simple. Enclosed in this envelope is a name, the name of the person you are tasked to kill. You will be competing with 8 other chosen participants, and the first to eliminate this target will be granted what they wish most, along with a small stipend of five million dollars.-â€
~~~
â€œWhat they wish most.â€
A curl spread over the manâ€™s lips as he silently read out the contents of his letter.
â€œWould this person actually know what I want the most?â€
â€œDo not share any of this information with anyone else. If any outsiders hear of this, the offence is punishable by the rules of this game.â€
He lifted the letter and looked at what was affixed below it. The smirk on his face immediately vanished and he turned ghastly pale.
â€œSoâ€¦â€ he murmured. â€œThis guyâ€™s serious, is he? But how did he knowâ€¦â€
With warm regards,
The Grim Reaper

No one came out to greet me. I would not have blamed them, for nothing would have pulled me from my comfortable armchair (ah, the memories of my warm house are flooding back; I must push them away) in this weather. As I was about to turn around and depart, I heard a creak. The gate was opening! I spun around quickly, preparing to clasp the personâ€™s hands in deep gratitude, only to find the gates wide open, but no one to thank. Had the wind been this strong?
I gingerly touched the metal gates. No, they seemed too sturdy to be blown open. There must be some kind of automated system then. My heart lightened at the thought, for it meant that somebody had been kind enough to admit me, for I would not have liked to trespass. To confirm my suspicions, the door of the house opened as well, probably controlled by the same automated system. I made a mental note to inquire about it once I had dried myself, for I do have some interest in mechanics.
I trudged hurriedly into the house, conscious that the water on my body was dripping onto a well-kept carpet. I was about to produce an exclamation of thanks, so overwhelmed by the appealing warmth of the place, but was interrupted before I could speak.
"You must be tired, and soaked. Do come to the living room and dry off, Mr Pratt."
â€œOh, thank you,â€ I answered, more absently than I had desired. My brows had unwittingly taken on a furrow. Had she just called me Mr Pratt when I had barely introduced myself? I decided that maybe my ears had taken to hallucination due to the loud storm.
Alas, if only I had known then! That had been an indicator for me to run away, as far as I could!
But at the time I had no instinct of danger. I looked at who was presumably the hostess of the house, frantically disguising my astonishment. She was dressed in a very sophisticated black and red dress, with very handsome ornaments. She was evidently a person of high society, who sought outfits that exemplified a certain unique yet nonetheless tasteful style.
And yet, I could not help but be taken aback at how, well, young she was.
She seemed barely thirteen, and yet there was a dignified air about her that suggested she had outgrown her youth. She looked every bit the mistress of the place, and yet with her twintails and that sweet, high-pitched, melodious voice, I could not be hard-pressed to place her age.
â€œI thank you for granting me entrance from the merciless rain outside, and if it is of no inconvenience, I would like to spend the night here, and be off to continue my journey tomorrow. May I speak to the master, so that I may personally thank him for this generosity and also ask his permission?â€ I asked hesitantly as I followed her gesture to the living-room, something telling me that that might offend her. But she could not be the sole owner of this huge house, with the amount of upkeep that was surely required. And no matter how mature her air, I was sure that I was standing before someone who could not have passed her adolescent years.
Even if she was holding what looked suspiciously to be a glass of wine.
The living-room was immaculately cosy. I sidled up to the crackling fireplace, feeling my lethargy slip away from me. I dared not sit on any of the chairs, much as I dearly wished to, embarrassed about the state of my clothing. A warm bath and some sleep would do me a world of good, for I was not mentally or physically prepared to do much else for the day.

Everyone! Now that the time has come to this, i shall answer everyone's burning questions. Listen to my explanation, and you'll find that all your doubts are instantly cleared. At the start of the game, i was a Loyal Knight. However, after i entered the Inner Circle, Seanzilla whispered words of seduction that induced me to the Chaos side! I've no idea how i could've fallen prey to them; i must've been horribly drunk. Because i had been Converted, the Chaos Knights gained an additional ability, that of reading people's abilities. Seanzi used it on Wstfgl. This Phase, i was Converted back to the Loyal side. Therefore i can share this story with all of you. I thus believe that we shouldn't vote Seanzi, Noia and Sir Vey Lance into the Inner Circle! Also, both conversion knights used their abilities on me, lol.

I'm certainly not going to fall into the trap set up by these Chaos Knights to get me to reveal more than I should! First of all, the message I received wasn't even signed, so it's all well and good for Wstfgl to pretend that he sent the Message to me. It does look rather like the way he words things, but if that's the case, then there's nothing more to reveal. Whatever he told me is the same as whatever he's telling all of you now. Secondly, I'm not going to reveal anything about my ability. Wstfgl and Ethereal both vouch for my innocence, which should be enough for all of you. Even if Wstfgl has any doubts, his own ability won't lie to him. Resolve this conundrum on your own, but don't blame it on my behaviour.

And I, the fashionably late idol, having taken an extended vacation in Sydney after my job was done, decide to join Zuge Liangfeng and the Harasho Russian spy in Shanghai. I shall thus endeavour to get a ship ticket to Shanghai and move there.

First of all, it was quite remiss of King OctOctOctium to have sent the Messages so late. I only received a flood of communication in my mailbox today. Secondly, I of course vouch for the version of the story in which I am innocent. The Knight of ___ was definitely for more than just flavour. What else do you require me to prove in order to claim my Loyalty?

A modification of abilities? I wonder why Ethereal must be first to enter the Inner Circle. If what he says is true, and he is also on the good side, then I would gladly give up my spot for him -- I don't need to be first to enter the Inner Circle. However, can we trust him? Hmmm.